For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn
by Suicidal Grasshopper
Summary: Angst. All I'm going to say. EnriqueXQueen.
1. Chapter 1

Well, I guess this could be called a gift for AzikaRue394, because EnriqueXQueen is her pairing, or it could be called a gift fic for Silent Pandemonium, who is awesome and has expressed a liking for my angsty-er fics. Either way, it's the first thing I've deemed worthy of uploading in a long time. I was angsting yesterday, and I'm only half-awake right now--blame that for this abomination's presence.

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Don't sue. M'kay? Thanks. **

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_"For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." ~Ernest Hemingway, when asked what he thought his greatest work was._

* * *

For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn

Queen pulled another dusty cardboard box off the shelf in her makeshift storage room--really the only room besides the bathroom in her sliver of an apartment that had a lock on the door. Carrying it out into the cubbyhole that served as her living room, she set it down on the threadbare carpet next to the coffee table and went to grab a kitchen knife to cut the packing tape on the box and the box of tissues in the windowsill that was swiftly running out.

The needed articles in hand, she sunk to the floor next to the box and folded her legs beneath her.

A bitter crackle shivered through the empty, dusty air as the kitchen knife sliced through the packing tape. Shaky fingers laid the knife back on the coffee table and pulled open the flaps on the lid, releasing a slow trickle of pent-up memories, musty and faded with time and avoidence.

On top of the box rested a denim-covered book. Picking it up with careful reverence, Queen brushed a hand over it's front cover and opened it in her lap. On the first page was a photograph, surrounded by ornate, hand-drawn borders she recognized as the work of _his_ best friend, Oliver. A watery smile surfaced briefly, in remembrance of the happy-go-lucky French young man lost to her so many years ago, vanished like everything else. Her attention turned to the photograph itself, a reminiscent tear escaping her eye. It was one of the few "professional" pictures of the two ever taken--besides the multitude of wedding photographs languishing in some other box lost in space. Enrique's arms were wrapped around her shoulders from behind, his boyish grin just beginning to mellow into a mature smile. A small bump had begun to appear beneath the loose-fitting peasant-top, and she glowed with the excitement and anticipation of a mother-to-be.

Her heart skipped a beat or two, choking on the strong memory.

Turning the page, she found a page full of considerations for names. She skimmed the list, one name near the bottom of the page dragging up an unbidden memory.

**_~Flashback~_**

"Gabriel's a good name," Queen mused over the remains of breakfast, her fork absently chasing a lone blueberry around the plate.

"Hmm?" Enrique swallowed a forkful of syrup-drenched pancake and said doubtfully, "Gabriel?"

"Or maybe Gabrielle, if it's a girl," she continued, turning in her chair to face the big bay window framing the kitchen table.

"I like Bianca for a girl," her husband offered.

Queen glared at him in mock disapproval. "Really, En? Naming _our child_ after one of your former slutty girlfriends? Now that's just tacky."

"No, not bianca like the girl I dated I don't know how long ago. Biana like the younger sister in The Taming of the Shrew."

She gasped mockingly. "My husband referring to Shakespearean literature? Oh, be still, my beating heart."

"Hey, shut up," he laughed. "That's not fair, and you know it."

**_~End Flashback~_**

Pulling a tissue out of the box, she held the crumpled wad in her lap and turned the page again.

Three black, shiny pieces of paper were taped to the page, eache one with an obscure white blob in the center. In big, pink letters at the top, a banner announced, "It's a girl!"

**_~Flashback~_**

"Do you wanna know," Queen asked casually, chopping up a tomatoe to add to dinner.

"Know what?"

Queen landed a gentle punch on his arm. "What we're having, idiot!"

"Oh, the appointment was today?"

"Yes! We talked about this last night, remember?"

"Oh... Well?"

Queen thought for a moment. "You know, just because you forgot, I'm not going to tell you."

"What? Come on, Queen, tell me!"

She dumped the pile of diced tomatoes into the frying pan. "If you really want to know, go look on the bed." She laughed as he darted down the hallway to their bedroom, and continued with her dinner preparations.

"A girl!?"

Queen smiled and stirred the contents of the frying pan.

**_~End Flashback~_**

The tissue was now sodden and discarded on the coffee table, followed by another, and another.

Queen slowly closed the book, hesitating before laying it reverently on the carpet next to the box. She didn't need to continue flipping through the pages--the rest were blank.

**_~Flashback~_**

Hushed voices outside the darkened hospital room nudgged her awake.

"Her fever's just broken, Dr. Randall, it'd be too much of a shock for her right now," a breathy female voice reasoned.

"She deserves to know as soon as possible, Marinne," the voice called Dr. Randall argued, sounding pained to say so.

A sudden coughing fit sqeezed her lungs, drawing the attention of the medical personnel outside.

"Here, honey," the nurse, a wispy woman in her early fifties, cooed, pressing a glass of water into her hands. "Drink slow, now. That's it."

Dr. Randall hovered by the door, unsure if he was needed at the present moment.

"What happened? Why am I--"

"Shhh. You were very sick for a time there. Don't worry, you're going to be just fine now."

Queen pressed a worried hand to her abdomen. "And Bianca? Is she going to be okay?"

Marinne looked uncertainly at the doctor. He mouthed 'the baby' when Queen looked away for a few seconds. She cooed understandingly and patted her on the cheek in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."

**_~End Flashback~_**

Enrique had been away on business, and she hadn't had the strength or the courage to face him--she'd taped a note to their bedroom door, gathered her things, and left as quietly as a miscarriage would allow. Two years later, the wound still stung.

Peeking in the box, she pulled out a pair of baby shoes--expensive satin ballet flats shrunk to a delicate miniature. Tears pricked her eyes as she got up and walked to her computer in the kitchen. Sitting down, she opened the web browser and reluctantly typed in an address.

~*~*~

Several days later, in an apartment halfway across the world, a man named Enrique was staring, dumbstruck, at a picture of blue satin baby shoes and a header that proclaimed without fanfare: "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn."

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Don't ask. It's really not worth it.

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

And, back by popular demand, we have this vein of insanity! Just something I did during lunch to keep myself a float in the sea of learning overload. Take it as you will--I really don't care.

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Don't sue. M'kay? Thanks. **

* * *

Enrique gaped at the computer screen, dumbstruck. He _knew_ those baby shoes--he'd seen them lying on his--_their--_bed, so many years ago. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pushed the desk chair away from the desk and stood, intending to get some air.

In his stupor, he didn't see Oliver standing in the library doorway until he ran headlong into him.

"Jeez, En, what's up with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

The Italian shook his head, still in a disbelieving daze. "I can't believe it... All this time..."

Oliver looked at him curiously and lead him back into the library. "What are you talking about?"

Shaking his head again, he reclaimed his seat in front of the computer. "Look," he said wearily, pulling up the webpage. "Tell me you don't recognize those shoes."

Oliver stared at the picture for a long time. "Aren't those the ones you bought for the baby?"

"Yeah. _She_ took them with her when she left." His breath hitched. Standing up, he shouldered past the Frenchman and shuffled to the door. "I'll be in the garden--I need air."

Watching the door fall shut behind him, Oliver bit his lip and looked back at the screen. _God, I can't stand it when he's like this. Hmmmm.... I wonder...._

He took a seat in the rolling desk chair and picked up the phone sitting beside the monitor.

Johnny wandered into the kitchen of McGregor Castle just in time to hear the phone ring. "What do you people want now," he muttered in annoyance. Picking up the cordless phone, he pressed the 'talk' button with a bit more force than necessary and held it to his ear. "What?"

"Johnny? It's Oliver."

"I can hear that," he said slowly, trying desperately to not blow up at the Frenchman. "Can I _help_ you with something?"

"Can you track an ad on a website for me?"

"Why?"

"Please? I've _never_ asked you for anything, can't you just do this one thing for me?"

"I won't do it unless you tell me why you want me to."

"It's for Enrique."

"All the more reason for me to not do it."

"_Please?_" The pleading was almost more than Johnny could stand.

"Oliver, if I'm going to do something potentially illegal for you, don't I kind of have the right to know what it's for?"

"...Yes, I suppose."

"Then...?"

Oliver sighed. "You remember when Queen miscarried two years ago?"

"Yeah?"

"And then she disappeared afterwards and took everything of hers and all of the baby's things out of the apartment?"

"Yeah?"

"Enrique found a pair of baby shoes they'd bought on the internet this morning. If Queen put them up for sale...?"

Johnny scowled. "_No. Way. In. Hell," _he ground out. "I'm not helping the loser with his pathetic love life."

"Please, Johnny? You even said that she made him more bearable," Oliver pouted.

"Yeah...," he said begrudgingly. She had restrained his wild side while they were together.

"Can't you just find an address for the ad? That's all I'm asking. I just want the address."

Silence reigned for several long seconds.

"Email me the link. I have nothing else to do today."

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If I don't kill myself doing homework tonight, and if enough people want to see more, than there will be three more chapters, give or take.

Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

And, back by popular demand, we have this vein of insanity! Just something I did during lunch to keep myself a float in the sea of learning overload. Take it as you will--I really don't care.

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Don't sue. M'kay? Thanks. **

* * *

For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn

Johnny slid into the office chair and tapped a quick access code out on the keyboard. The internet browser popped up on the computer screen, his email account already loading. Clicking on the only unread message in his inbox, he scanned the message and clicked on the link at the bottom of the email. Another window surfaced, this time an ad on an online market.

Sitting back in his chair for a second, he looked at his feet stretched out under the desk. Why was he even doing this? He hated Enrique--okay, not as much as when they were teenagers, but still enough to make him question any kindness he was asked to do for the Italian. Johnny didn't do Enrique any favors, and Enrique didn't do Johnny any favors--it wasn't good or bad in anyone's eyes, it just _was_.

So why was he asked to do this?

And why had he said he would?

An old memory stabbed at his consciousness in reply.

**~FLASHBACK~**

Snow fell in soft eddies around the big bay window, looking like swirls of innocent fairies, or angels drifting to earth. Queen was sitting in one of the windows of the maroon-and-mahogany library in McGregor Castle, looking blankly out at the dark world outside. Johnny padded up to the window seat and nudged the back of her head with the base of a mug of hot chocolate. "Here," he said quietly when she looked up. "This'll help."

"Thank you," she whispered, moving over to let him sit with her.

"It's nothing. It's just hot cocoa, and I was going to make myself some any--"

"That's not what I meant." Her voice was a little stronger.

"What?"

"I meant, thank you for not asking questions."

Johnny shrugged. "You'll tell me when you're ready."

She took a sip and stared sullenly out the window.

The two sat in silent contemplation for many long minutes.

"You're not going to tell Enrique that I'm here?"

"'Course not."

She smiled gratefully at him.

Several more minutes tiptoed by.

"Do you still want to know?"

"Not if you're not ready to tell me."

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Looking over, he saw her thin fingers grip the legs for her sweatpants so hard they turned bone-white. When she spoke, she sounded as though it was all she could do to keep her voice level.

"I... I got sick, a couple months ago. Like, really, really sick--I couldn't keep anything down, I had a fever--one of the neighbors took me to the hospital. Enrique was away--you remember when he went to New York for those few weeks, back in September?" She took another gulp of air and a sip of hot chocolate. "He was gone... And I woke up, and... And..." Queen lost her grip. Putting her forehead on her drawn-up knees, she sobbed like a broken child without anyone to cling to for support.

"Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay..." Johnny whispered, gently pulling the mug out of her hand and setting it on the floor. With a fleeting thought of what his former teammate would think to find them like this, he put his arms around her shoulders and let her rest her forehead on his shoulder, pulling his fingertips through her now-shoulder blade length ebony hair in an imitation of his mother when she found him this upset. "You can stop there, if you need to."

"N-no," she said, her voice wavering. "You... You're letting m-me hide here...you should know..." She lo.

**~END FLASHBACK~**

She had stayed for two weeks. He had moved into the bedroom beside hers and across from the library after discovering her sitting in that windowseat. Their interactions had consisted mostly of insomniatic, chance meetings and late-night bowls of ice-cream and cups of hot chocolate, after discovering that they both had difficulty sleeping.

And then, a week before Christmas, she vanished. Left a note on the dresser of the guest room she had used, and disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Where she had gone, or what had become of her, he still wondered.

Was this a favor for a "friend?"

Or a way to satisfy his curiosity?

Shaking his head, Johnny decided he would accuse himself of the nobler intention for the moment and get to work.

* * *

Oliver paced the study of the not-so small cottage he shared with Enrique when they decided to go on vacation together. "Robert, come on...I know you're not too busy to pick up the phone..."

"Hello?"

"Robert!"

The German sounded startled. "Oliver? What, is something wrong?"

Oliver smirked sarcastically at the potted hibiscus in the corner. Nine years out of the role of team captain, and he was still poised to take charge in times of crisis. "Took you long enough to answer. I've called you at least four times in the last hour."

Robert sighed audibly. "Is there any particular _reason_ you felt it necessary to pester my secretaries thus?"

"Would I 'pester' you and your annoying handlers if there weren't?"

"I suppose not."

"Thank you. You remember when Queen left, right?"

"...Yes. Two years ago this coming October, if I'm not mistaken. But I don't see--"

"Enrique found her."

"Are you sure?" Oliver thought he might have been hearing things, but he could've sworn there was a note of abject surprise and...excitement?

"Of course we're sure!"

"Where has she been hiding for two years? We all have practically combed the globe for her since she left, correct?"

Now it was Oliver's turn to hesitate. "We're not sure...exactly...where she is. We found an ad on the internet for the exact pair of baby shoes that they bought for their little girl. I sent it to Johnny and--"

"You do know that he will never consent to help you?"

"He already did. As I was saying, I sent it to him and he's trying to find an address for it."

"Jonathon McGregor, helping you and Enrique? I wonder if he has driven himself insane, cooped up in that castle of his."

Oliver chuckled softly. "It took some persuasion, let me tell you."

They were both silent for a moment, lost in thought.

"Not to sound rude, but what exactly does this have to do with me?"

"We need somewhere for them to get together. Somewhere they have a lot of good memories."

"And you're thinking of my family estate?"

"Yes! He proposed to her on Christmas Eve in your library, and they announced that Queen was pregnant to everyone at your place, don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember, Oliver. Of course I remember."

"What?"

"Hmmm?"

"Aren't you happy that we might get them back together?"

"Might, Oliver. Just...don't get your hopes up too far, alright?"

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Holy crap, long chapter. Sorry 'bout that, folks.

Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

HOLY CRAP this hasn't been updated in forever. ;-; Really, really sorry. BUT it's almost done--only about two more chapters to go.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Don't sue. M'kay? Thanks. **

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For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn

"Hello?"

"Oliver? She's in Colorado--lives in an apartment in downtown Denver, works full-time in a used bookstore next to the Colorado State Capitol building .The store's called Capitol Hill. She's taking online college classes at University of Colorado, and she's volunteering at the Denver Children's Advocacy Center."

Oliver pulled his phone away from his ear to look at the number, dumbstruck by the information overload. "Wow, Johnny...that was more than I was hoping for. Thank you."

"It only took me half an hour, it's nothing."

"You spent _half an hour_ looking for this? Geez, you could've just found the address in fifteen minutes and then gotten on with your life!"

A smirk was almost visible in Johnny's reply. "I always like an opportunity to prove that I have the capabilities to know all."

"Yes, we're aware. What are her working hours, do you know?"

Johnny sighed. "That's the one thing I can't figure out. I know that the bookstore closes at six, but who knows how long she stays after to clean up? Probably, if you're going to call her, your best bet would be to try to wake her up, which would mean calling at around...7 at night your time."

"I'm not calling her. I'm going in person."

There was silence, and then a confused, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. It's the only way I can think of to ensure that she'll at least consider coming back with me. ...And this way, she's sure to not hang up on me or anything."

"This is true."

"I'm flying to Denver first chance I can get. Hopefully, I'll have her with me when I come back."

* * *

Queen squeezed another book onto the already overloaded shelf and stepped back to study the display. She wrinkled her nose--the romance novels weren't her favorite, but a book was a book was a book, as far as shelving was concerned. Someone would buy them sooner or later.

The bell on the door jingled softly, muffled by the forbidding forest of pages. "Be with you in a second," she called over her shoulder, lifting the half-empty box to take back to the storage room. She shuffled through the contents of the box as she walked, picking out mysteries and a few how-to books that she thought would make a good window display when she changed it in a few weeks.

Setting the box inside the door to the back room, she pulled out the books and carried them to the counter. With one last look at the cover of an antique Nancy Drew novel, she raised her eyes to look at the newcomer.

"Oliver?"

"Queen?"

The two stared at each other for several long moments, the silence a deafening cloud around them.

Oliver smiled hesitantly. "Where have you been?"

"Here. Why are you here?"

"To talk to you."

"No, really."

Oliver sighed. "Queen, Enrique's a wreck without you. He _needs _you. He wants you back. Please just hear me out?"

Queen laughed bitterly. "He'll move on. We'll both move on. It just wasn't meant to--"

"Queen, stop it."

The woman blinked. Rarely, if ever, did Oliver interrupt someone, much less with that impatient, angry tone.

"You and I both know that to say that you two weren't meant to be together is a lie. Just because something happened doesn't mean you run away. Remember when you said that to me? You're tough, Queen--it's not like you to just run away from something, even if it was traumatic."

Queen pulled the sleeve of her turtleneck sweater over her knuckles and brushed it across her eyes. "You don't understand."

"No, I probably don't. But I do understand that Enrique still wants you back."

"He doesn't."

"Yes, he does. ...Let me prove it."

"How?"

"Come back with me."

She looked at him sadly. "I can't do that."

"Please?"

"Oliver...it'd just bring up difficult memories."

"So? That's never stopped you from anything before. And since when do you hide in a corner from _memories_?"

Queen laughed softly, this one devoid of bitterness. "You have a point."

"Does that mean I win?"

"Win what?"

"The argument!"

Queen smiled and shook her head. "Can I have a day or two to think about it?"

"Sure. I'll wait as long as you need."

They stared at each other for another long moment.

Queen smiled hesitantly.

"Thanks, Oliver."

* * *

This is so saaaaaappy. ;-; It's like a freakin' soap opera, it's so bad. Johnny's kinda fun, though.

Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

Ooookay. I was going to draw this out into two chapters, but just because I can, I'm lumping it all together into one chapter. For an overdose of sappiness. The ending is especially questionable.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Don't sue. M'kay? Thanks. **

* * *

For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn

Enrique pulled his suitcase across the stone pavers encasing the front stairs of the castle and looked up at the maid holding open one of the heavy wooden doors. "Hello, Marie," he said in greeting. "Is Robert around?"

"I'm afraid he's in town for a meeting," she said, taking his suitcase. "He should be home for dinner this evening. Jonathon is in the library, however."

Fighting the urge to pull a face, Enrique asked, "Is Oliver here, then?"

Marie shook her head. "He called Master Robert this morning and said that he might be delayed a few days."

Enrique muttered several choice words under his breath. "Okay," he sighed, resigning himself to an uncomfortable afternoon with Johnny.

"I will put your belongings in one of the guest rooms in the West Hall."

"Thank you, my dear."

The silence of the castle still unnerved him, even after knowing Robert for 16 years and visiting countless times. He pushed open the door to the library and kicked off his shoes just inside the door. The head maid was obsessive about the care of the Persian rugs.

"Okay, I'll see you then...I love you, too."

Enrique grinned, leaning against the mammoth oak desk. "Calling the fiancée _again_?"

"Hey, I ask her to call me whenever she goes somewhere. It's not fair for me not to return the favor," Johnny said, his voice taking on a defensive tone. "When did you get here?"

"Couple hours ago. What's all this about, anyway? We just got together at Oliver's place over Christmas, didn't we?"

"Shoot, I have no idea."

Enrique's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Don't lie."

Johnny tossed his 6-foot-3-inches frame to the couch and glared at him. "Am not."

"I've known you for almost seventeen years now, Johnny-boy. I think I know when you're lying to me."

The Scot sighed and raised his eyebrows in a gesture of sincerity. "Okay, so I _do_ know, but I can't tell you. Robert and Oliver made me swear."

"And when Robert says it..."

"It's law. Sorry."

Enrique sank back into an armchair and studied the genuinely contrite expression for a moment. "It's not big deal, I guess," he sighed, "I'll find out soon enough."

* * *

Oliver took Queen's suitcase and pulled it into the rickety elevator that served her apartment building. "Ready?"

She drew in a shaky breath and nodded. "As I'll ever be. You sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure. Enrique will be ecstatic about seeing you again."

Queen hesitated before reaching over and grabbing Oliver's hand for support. He looked over at her and offered a smile, giving her hand a small, reassuring squeeze.

"Thanks, Oliver."

"Anytime."

* * *

Robert pushed the library door open and tossed his jacket onto the leather desk chair.

"Hey, Robert. Long time, no see."

Turning to look over his shoulder, the German nodded in greeting, a little surprised to see his two former teammates in the middle of a card game on the coffee table. "Did I miss anything?"

"Not really," Enrique shrugged, laying down a pair of twos. "Where's Oliver?"

"He called me several minutes ago to say that he should be here in the morning. He was just leaving."

"Any idea what this is about?"

"I...think that's Oliver's to explain, not mine."

Enrique huffed and returned his eyes to the cards in his hand. "You people are so mysterious, it's annoying."

* * *

Queen gazed out the window of the car at the trees rushing past, her thoughts pulling forward faster than the car could go.

"Nervous?"

"I haven't seen him in two years. Of course I'm nervous, Oliver."

He offered a sympathetic smile as the vehicle pulled up to the entrance of the castle. "He misses you. You'll be well-received, I'm sure."

"If you say so."

"I know so."

The car door opened to Gustav holding out his hand to assist Queen out of the car.

"Thank you, Gustav," Queen said quietly, taking his hand with a shy smile.

"The pleasure is mine, my dear," the now-elderly butler said warmly, passing her out of the car and several feet away from the door.

"Gustav," Oliver said in greeting, following Queen out of the car.

"Master Oliver, Masters Robert and Enrique have just sat down to breakfast, I believe."

"And Johnny?" Queen studied him carefully, curious to the whereabouts of her former host.

"I believe he decided to sleep in this morning. Master Robert mentioned sending someone to wake him if he didn't appear before noon."

Oliver laughed. "Nothing ever really changes, does it?"

"No, not really," Queen smiled.

* * *

Robert spread a film of blueberry jam over an English muffin and looked over at Enrique munching contentedly on a bowl of cold cereal. "Oliver should be arriving today," he said conversationally, knowing how disturbed Enrique was by the silence of his home.

"Mmm? Oh, yeah. Why's he so late, anyway? Isn't he the one who suggested we all get together here for Easter?"

"I believe he said he had unexpected business to attend to. He honestly didn't tell me much."

Enrique frowned. "He never has anything unexpected come up--nothing that keeps him from something planned, anyway."

Oliver strolled through the doors of the dining room. "Hey, guys," he said brightly. "Long time, no see."

"Yeah, where were you? You're never late to anything."

"Had to pick something up," the Frenchman answered enigmatically, leaning against the chair next to Enrique. "Speaking of, I have a surprise for you."

Robert studied him with surprise. _He didn't...She wasn't..._

Enrique grinned. "Aww, and it's not even my birthday."

Oliver just smiled back, looking like he had a tremendous secret. "You'll like this," he said, beckoning for the Italian to follow him out of the dining room.

"You coming, Robert?"

Shaking himself out of his surprise, Robert nodded. "Of course."

* * *

Enrique followed Oliver into the library, pestering him with questions with every step. "Seriously, you're sure you can't just give me a tiny, little hint?"

"Absolutely not. You'll find out in about thirty seconds anyway, if you just be patient."

Enrique wrinkled his nose in distaste, but fell silent as instructed.

Laughing silently, Oliver pushed the large, oak door inwards and motioned for Enrique to step inside.

A modest fire was burning in the fireplace, warding off the chill that still clung to Germany's northern regions. In a modest armchair angled toward the grate, a woman sat quietly, her hands clasped in her lap as her amethyst eyes danced with the flames. She looked up to the door at the entrance of the two men and smiled shyly.

Enrique's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe it... After all this time...she had come back...

"Hi, Enrique."

Somehow finding his breath again, he took a step towards her and whispered her name, disbelief robbing him of all other words.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, eyes falling to her hands. "I'm sorry...I..."

"Shhh, don't be," he said with a teary smile, crossing the room and pulling her from the armchair into the tightest embrace he had ever given her. "I'm just so glad you're back..." He rested his cheek in her hair, tears sliding down from his eyes and into the silky black strands. "I'm so glad you're back..."

* * *

Nine months later, the newly-reunited couple was joined by a healthy baby boy.

As Queen reflected as she watched him blow out the single candle on his birthday cake, with his Uncle Johnny's help, he could never replace the baby girl she had lost, but he didn't have to. The blue satin baby shoes would never be worn, but that was okay. She looked up and smiled at her husband, lacing her fingers into his resting on the small lump on her abdomen.

She wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.

* * *

I hate happy endings. But I was inevitably headed here--I was doomed from the second chapter.

Please review.


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